The start of second term was rather anticlimactic. Aside from the secret early morning training sessions with Wright, Harry’s schedule was more or less the same. He went to his study group, hung out with his friends in the Great Hall and by the lake on afternoons when it wasn’t too bitterly cold or dumping snow, exchanged hexes with Malfoy in the common room, and kept Neville from crashing and burning in Potions. Hermione’s manners had vastly improved and even Greengrass was willing to talk to her on occasion, which Harry considered a big step in the right direction, even if Hermione complained about it all the time. Harry just hmmmed noncommittally.
Slytherin politics were far too complicated for him to even bother explaining. Hermione would probably at least follow, but she’d be flabbergasted by the layers and layers to it; she’d think they were all a bunch of nutters.
Greengrass and Pansy’s rivalry was capped only by a sense of mutually assured destruction; Davis mostly hung around Greengrass and kept her head down. Pansy exerted significant influence over Malfoy that she mostly used for her own social advantage. Bulstrode was the smarter female version of the beefcakes; Harry might’ve actually worried about her if she hadn’t seemed perfectly content following Malfoy’s lead. Harry, Blaise, and Theo were on mostly decent terms with Greengrass and Davis, even if Greengrass liked to keep Harry on his toes with snide comments and clever power plays. Pansy and Harry didn’t make a point to spend time together but at least got along better than they had before the holidays. She recognized that he had useful ties to other Houses and he knew she was a valuable ally, so they had come to a mutual truce even though Harry and Malfoy were sniping at each other more often than not. Pansy even occasionally showed up to the study group, and if she cold shouldered Hermione and Justin, Harry counted it as improvement that she was even willing to be near them.
Early morning practices with Wright were suspended leading up to the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin game. Harry was glad of the reprieve. He and Theo and Blaise had started reviewing for their exams, and while he wasn’t worried per se, adding review on top of his classwork, his extracurricular wandwork practice, hanging out with his study group circle, and Potions experimentation was tough.
They piled into the stands the day of the game. Theo swapped barbs with Justin and Hannah while Blaise convinced Harry to wandlessly jostle Malfoy’s perfect hair every few minutes. It was highly amusing to watch the blond get increasingly paranoid and twitchy.
Lee Jordan was commentating, as usual. “The Slytherin team—Flint, Pucey, Wright, Higgs, Bletchley, Derrick, and Bole!”
Seven green blurs shot onto the pitch in perfect formation, Flint in the center flanked by Wright and Higgs, who took precedence as seventh years. They did a lap of the stands. Slytherin and Ravenclaw cheered. Hufflepuff didn’t. Gryffindor booed.
“Aaaand the Hufflepuff team—Fitzsimmons, Park, Stevens, Taylor, Terry, Diggory, and Corner!”
None of the Slytherins booed as the black-and-yellow-clad Hufflepuffs did their lap. Harry was proud of his house’s class.
They all cheered themselves hoarse. Harry knew enough about Quidditch now to be impressed by the smooth certainty with which the Slytherin Chasers worked together. Pucey, Wright, and Flint were a machine. They practically read each other’s minds. Harry didn’t like the thought of being expected to fill Wright’s shoes next year, but there really wasn’t anyone else—
“Two more goals for a Snitch-proof game!” Malfoy yelled, all composure gone as Slytherin scored yet again.
Suddenly, Higgs’ broom lunged forward through the air. Diggory twisted and shot off after him. The stands went nuts.
“He’s got it!” Harry shouted, watching through his omnoculars—Higgs was way ahead of Diggory; Hufflepuff didn’t have a chance—
Wham!
“Slytherin Seeker Higgs flies directly into Chaser Stevens!” Jordan’s amplified voice bellowed. “Nasty blow—Diggory’s in the lead now—yes! Diggory’s got the Snitch! Two hundred forty to two hundred thirty, Hufflepuff wins!”
“Foul!” the Slytherins screamed. “Foul!”
“Is he just going to ignore that?” Blaise shouted.
Noah Bole looked about ready to climb out of the student section and over to the announcer’s platform. “That was flying to collide!”
But Madam Hooch didn’t call the foul. To his credit, Diggory protested the victory, but he’d caught the Snitch before a whistle blew, and that was that.
The Slytherins returned to their common room in a nasty temper that lasted for days. The Hufflepuffs flatly refused to acknowledge that Stevens had deliberately flown in front of Higgs, even though it was obvious to anyone who’d been paying attention. The Slytherins were out for blood and had the backing of most of Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors, meanwhile, got louder and more obnoxious with every day closer to the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, bragging about “their Seeker and their Keeper and the sparkles coming out their asses,” as Bletchley sneeringly put it, and how they were going to knock Slytherin off the House Cup for the first time in seven years. The guerrilla war landed thirteen people in the hospital wing in one week—eighteen if you counted Jack Stevens’ five separate trips—and only ended when Snape sat all of Slytherin down in the common room and threatened hellish detentions for anyone caught hexing another student.
The day before the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, Harry and Wright were walking back up to the castle in the half-dark predawn, exhausted and soaking wet from the rain. Wright had been tense as a wire all week and he was practically vibrating with nervous energy now.
“What’re Gryffindor’s chances, do you reckon?” Harry said.
“Hard to say, really,” Wright said. “Gryffindor’s Chasers are all fairly young, and it’s the Terrors’ second year flying. Half their team graduated last year. But their Keeper, Wood, he’s a maniac and right brilliant at flying. He’s in fifth year and being recruited by Puddlemere. Plus there’s your brother, the Seeker prodigy.” He sneered. “The Diggory’s got experience on his side, but the Other Potter has a better broom, so that’s a toss-up. Meanwhile, the Puff Chasers are all older and more experienced than the Gryffindor set, but they have a weaker Keeper.”
“What’ll their strategies be?” Harry asked. He was fairly sure he could guess accurately but it never hurt to ask advice. He’d found it usually made people feel important if you seemed to want their opinion.
Sure enough, Wright launched into a rapid-fire assessment that left Harry’s head spinning. The short version was mostly what he’d have guessed—the Hufflepuff Beaters would be out for Jules Potter’s blood, the Puff Chasers would be trying to monopolize the Quaffle, and Diggory would mark Jules to keep him from using his better broom. Meanwhile, the Gryffindor Beaters would be working on disrupting the Puff offensive maneuvers and were apparently absolute nightmares on the pitch, which surprised Harry not at all.
It played out more or less like Wright predicted. Harry watched Jules catch the Snitch in less than five minutes with a sense of resignation, barely even noticing the fight that broke out between Malfoy, the beefcakes, and Jules’ three hangers-on until the game was over and Malfoy emerged with a black eye, which somewhat made up for the frustration of having lost the match to Gryffindor.
Snape, predictably, looked livid.
Harry looked over at the seventh years and winced. Blaise followed his glance and smirked at the expression on Wright’s face. “Oh dear,” he said, “tomorrow morning is not going to be fun for you.”
“Don’t make me regret telling you, Zabini,” Harry said.
Theo sniffed. “As if you’d have been able to pull off your whole sneaking-out-for-secret-training thing without us covering for you.”
***
Wright’s bad mood hung around a lot longer than just the day after the match. Neville chose the moment after Harry’s brutal Wednesday morning Quidditch session to accost him in a corridor. “Harry, g-good, I need—why are you soaking wet?”
“Because it’s raining, Longbottom, what do you think?” he snarled.
He blinked and wavered. “There’s no—no call to be rude!” Neville said with a sort of resigned courage. Clearly Gryffindor was rubbing off on him.
He took a breath. “Yes, you’re right, that was—my bad mood’s not aimed at you,” he said, because apologizing made him think of cowering on the Dursleys’ kitchen gasping out I’m sorry over and over. It hadn’t done anything to stop his uncle’s belt, and he did not like being reminded of that helplessness. “What’s going on?”
“Jules overheard Snape threatening Quirrell.”
“Did it never occur to you that maybe Snape’s threatening Quirrel to stay away from the thing in the trapdoor?” He wasn’t about to let him know it was the Sorcerer’s Stone.
“He was telling Quirrell to help him get to the Stone—Hermione thinks there’s probably loads of enchantments and—and Snape needs Quirrell to take them down—”
Harry resisted the urge to bang his head into a wall. “Snape didn’t try to kill Jules,” he said.
“Listen, I—I want to believe you, but—” Neville’s face was white but determined. Clearly, arguing this long was hard on him, but he was sticking to it. Harry had to give the boy credit.
“Neville, listen. Either Quirrell’s being victimized, in which case he can go to Dumbledore, or Snape is doing the right thing, in which case I’m pretty confident he can handle it, or they’re both up to something and Dumbledore still lives here so I highly doubt any Dark Arts mess is going to happen. And no matter what is actually going on it’s nothing first years should be getting involved in.”
Neville deflated a bit. He had enough sense to agree, unlike most everyone else in his House. “Will you at least keep an eye on Snape for us?” he said.
“Of course.”
***
Harry walked into his dorm, dragged Theo and Blaise out into the hallway, and related in a furious whisper what Neville had just told him.
He also learned that not five minutes before, in the Great Hall, a very excited Hermione had told a much less excited Theo that they’d found a reference to Flamel and from there figured out what was probably hidden in the school.
“Finnegan found it on a Chocolate Frog card,” Theo said in disgust, “only a bloody Gryffindor,” and Blaise went to go tell Professor Snape that the Gryffindor first years were now aware of what was the Cerberus was guarding. He came back and told them he’d never seen Snape so angry. As they’d all seen Snape in a towering rage after the inter-House warfare before the Quidditch match, this made the point quite nicely.
***
“Hagrid has a what?”
“A dragon,” Pansy said with relish. “Draco saw it! Longbottom, Granger, and Jules Potter and his idiot squad were all in there arguing.”
“What was that Mudblood doing with the gamekeeper, do you think?” Bulstrode said with exaggerated curiosity.
“He lives in a wooden hut,” Harry said in disbelief, storing away Bulstrode’s comment for later reprisal and noting with interest that while Crabbe and Goyle laughed, Parkinson, Greengrass, and Davis all refrained.
“Stupid oaf,” Greengrass scoffed. “He shouldn’t even be trusted with an earthworm.”
“How did he even get a dragon?” Theo wondered. “That’s a Class XXXXX restricted magical creature.”
“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Greengrass said.
“Draco found out the Gryffindors are planning on smuggling it off the grounds this weekend,” Parkinsons said, looking absolutely vicious. “If anyone lets this get out, I’ll flay them, the Gryffindors are going to lose so many points. Maybe even get expelled. Dragon smuggling.”
***
“Can we talk about this?” Blaise muttered.
Harry heaved a sigh, admitted that he couldn’t avoid the conversation forever, and slipped sideways into a secret passageway that connected the second floor Transfiguration wing to a back way in and out of the library. It was as good a place as any for a quick private conversation.
He and Blaise and Theo pulled the tapestry over the passage’s entrance.
“Are we going to interfere?” Theo said. They all knew exactly what he meant.
Harry frowned. “I’d really rather not Hermione and Neville get expelled.”
“I cannot believe this,” Blaise said. “You’re about to jump in some Gryffindor’s idiotic plot for a Muggle-born and a Gryffindor so timid he literally jumps at his own shadow?”
“I never said I was going to jump into their plan,” Harry said, mind churning. “And I’m interfering for my friends.”
That shut Blaise up.
“Come on,” Harry said grimly. “I need to talk to Hermione. And I bet you anything she’s in the library.”
***
She was in the library.
Harry dropped into the seat across from Hermione. Theo leaned on the table on her left side, just close enough that his presence was pushing on her personal space, and Blaise took the seat on her right. They hadn’t even had to discuss it beforehand. Harry had great friends.
Hermione looked up with a smile, but it faltered when she took in how they’d kind of surrounded her. “Harry?”
“Hagrid’s breeding a dragon and Malfoy knows about it,” Harry said flatly. Hermione choked. “If you stick with your plan to get Charlie Weasley’s friends to fly the thing to Romania, Malfoy’s going to tip off the teachers and you’ll all get expelled. At best. Hagrid could do hard time and he’ll probably never hold a job again. And that’s just the penalty for illegal dragon breeding; Weasley’s friends would be in even hotter water for dragon smuggling.”
“You—prat!” Hermione said, twin spots of color burning on her cheeks. “Like you care about Hagrid—”
“Excuse you,” Blaise said coolly, “Theo and I both told him not to get involved. He’s risking his neck here. Technically all three of us are already accessories to a crime. He doesn’t want to see you lot expelled or Hagrid fired.”
“How did Malfoy even…” Hermione trailed off, looking miserable. “He was looking in Hagrid’s hut last week—he must’ve stolen the letter from Ron…”
“Because trusting Ron Weasley is a stellar way to keep things secret,” Theo muttered.
Harry pinched his nose. “Hermione, will you please at least consider that your plan needs some work?”
“It’s too late to owl Charlie again, they’re coming tomorrow!”
“Merlin’s balls,” Theo muttered.
Blaise looked massively annoyed. Harry decided he should probably move things along before Blaise got irritated to the point of hitting Hermione with a body-bind and dealing with it himself. Merlin knew Harry was tempted to do so himself. And he would. He’d wrap her up in ropes and stick her in a broom closet until this all blew over if that’s what it took to keep her from getting expelled.
Harry thought quickly. He needed to get them out of this; it’d discredit Malfoy, help Hagrid, and also keep two of his friends out of massive trouble. But there was no way he’d go to an adult. Snape was supposed to be his Head of House but the man clearly had a grudge with the Potters, not to mention the incessant bullying of Neville. Harry didn’t like bullies and he was pretty sure Snape only ever looked out for him out of a grudging sense of duty. Dumbledore was aloof; McGonagall far too stern. And he didn’t trust any of them.
Broom closets. “Brooms,” he said, eyes snapping to Hermione’s. “Jules and his crew—they can slip outside during dinner tomorrow, hide in the Gryffindor locker rooms until it’s time, and fly an interception pattern over the school, high enough that no one will see them, low enough to stay in the wards. Hermione, given that you’ve got Hogwarts, A History memorized, I’m sure you can figure out what kind of altitude we’re working with. When Weasley’s friends show up, just take them down to Hagrid’s hut.” He still thought it was moronic to transport a fire breathing dragon across country lines in a box strung between multiple brooms, but if the actual dragon people thought it would work, Harry wasn’t going to stop them. He hardly cared if they got themselves incinerated as long as they did it far away from his friends. “They can take the dragon and disappear.”
Hermione looked impressed. “That’s… pretty clever actually,” she said grudgingly.
“How will they get back in?” Theo said, eyes gleaming. “If the rendezvous is at midnight, sneaking back in will be breaking curfew. Won’t be easy. Unless—Harry, you’re friends with the twins, maybe they could cause a diversion.”
Hermione looked uncomfortable. “Well, Jules has an invisibility cloak. Some kind of family heirloom.”
Harry gaped at her for a few seconds before he found his voice. “Of course he bloody does,” he hissed. “Could James’ favoritism be any more obnoxious?”
Hermione winced.
Harry controlled himself, still coldly furious but trying to work past it. “Okay. Fine. They use the Cloak to slip back in. Four people under one garment? Do they all fit?”
“Barely. If they squish,” Hermione said. “And shuffle.”
“Okay, so the Cloak can get them back in… that still leaves—”
“Covering for them,” Blaise said.
“Neville.” Harry tapped the table.
Hermione chewed her lip. “You think he’ll agree?”
“All he has to do is say they went up to bed instead of dinner because they weren’t feeling well if anyone asks,” Theo said. “He’ll go for it. It’s his house points we’re saving. Plus we’re sticking it to Malfoy. If he tells the teachers to go look for you lot by Astronomy Tower with a dragon and nothing happens, he’ll lose credibility.”
“Speaking of which…” Harry looked at Hermione with a very serious expression. “If anyone asks, you and I are fighting right now over some comment a Slytherin made to you and you haven’t spoken to me in a week. Same for Neville, if you could pass it on.”
Hermione looked a little lost by all the scheming, but she figured it out quickly. “Because the Slytherins will be angry if you help Gryffindors out of trouble?” she said with vague disapproval.
“Because the Slytherins will be angry I deprived us of a chance to sit back and watch Gryffindor lose any shot at the House Cup,” Harry said. “Plus, I was told about Malfoy’s little plan in extreme confidence and one of the more terrifying Slytherin witches threatened to flay anyone who tattles. For the next week, we are not friends, clear?”
“I guess Neville and I shouldn’t come to study group then,” Hermione sighed.
“That, or I’ll skip,” Harry said.
“No, I’ll sit it out,” Hermione said determinedly, eyes glinting. “You’re right about all this. I owe you. I’ll keep Neville up to scratch in Potions for as long as you need us to stay away.”
“Just until next weekend,” Harry said. “We’ll have a public, cool but cordial greeting, and then just go back to study group like normal.”
Hermione nodded. “I take it you want me to pitch this to the others?”
“They won’t take it well if you drag me in there to tell them what to do,” Harry said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that would make them even more dead set on going with the first plan.”
“True. Let me see if I’ve got this.” Hermione rattled off the Slytherins’ plan almost verbatim.
Harry nodded appreciatively. Her memory really was incredible. “Glad we’ve got this sorted.”
Hermione rubbed her temples. “Why did Hagrid have to go and get a dragon of all things?” she hissed.
***
Theo, Blaise, and Harry trooped back down to the dungeons.
“Does no one else think it’s suspicious that Hagrid managed to get his hands on a dragon egg about the same time he’s in charge of the beast guarding something very valuable and hidden in this School?” Theo said abruptly.
“Of course we have,” Blaise said acidly. “Not much we can do, is there? Professors are obviously out; Snape would just snatch up Potter and the rest…”
Theo sneaked a sideways glance at Harry. “Well. If we really wanted, we could make sure they’re caught coming back in,” he murmured.
“How?” Blaise said.
“Summon the Cloak?” Harry said. “One of us can probably figure out the Summoning Charm before tomorrow.”
Theo shook his head. “Invisibility cloaks are usually spelled against Summoning Charms, and if they’ve got that it’ll be almost impossible to get them caught.”
It would be the best of all possible outcomes, Harry supposed. Hagrid safe, the dragon gone, Hermione and Neville safely tucked away in their dorms and out of the crossfire—if the Gryffindor quartet got caught creeping about after curfew, they’d lose massive points and get detention but definitely not be expelled. And all he had to do was make sure they didn’t have the Cloak.
“Unless you can sort out a way to make Jules Potter just forget about his priceless family heirloom, I don’t know that this is going to work,” Blaise said drily.
Harry stared at him. “Say that again.”
“I don’t know how this is going to work?”
“The first bit.”
“What, about making him forget about the Cloak? It’s a family he—”
Harry shushed him, thinking. And then he grinned.
“I think we can,” he said. “Potions.”
A pause, and then—
Theo’s eyes flew wide. “Oh.”
Blaise nodded appreciatively, and Harry smirked.
***
In the end, their role was simple. Harry brewed the potion and cast the Notice-Me-Not spell on Theo that Wright taught him over break. Theo crept out of the castle between lunch and dinner; Harry and Blaise went to study group and told the rest he was looking for a missing textbook. He rejoined them about thirty minutes later and pulled off a flawless nothing-is-wrong act, aside from tapping Harry and Blaise’s feet twice each, which had been their signal for everything going without a hitch. Harry and Hermione talked to Neville and the twins. Neville agreed to the plan. He looked unbearably nervous, but Harry clapped him on the shoulder and projected absolute confidence, and Neville managed a weak smile.
They retired to their dormitory early and promptly sneaked back out. The Slytherin dormitories were expansive and twisting, with a number of unused rooms and forgotten spaces the farther back you went. A short and extremely cramped passage led to another point in the dungeons close to the Potions classroom. Theo and Harry slipped into the classroom and waited.
At thirty minutes to midnight, they pulled out their note, written upside down and in reverse to make the handwriting untraceable—a trick Harry picked up from Muggle movies that greatly impressed Blaise and Theo—informing Professor Snape that several Gryffindors had been talking about sneaking out of the castle for an unknown reason and creeping back in around midnight. Harry and Theo positioned themselves by the classroom door, and then Harry tilted his head and concentrated and floated the letter from Theo’s hand across the room and under the door of Snape’s office.
They ducked out of the classroom and pressed themselves to the wall, listening closely.
Snape’s door opened a few seconds later.
That was enough. Heedless of noise thanks to their spelled shoes, Harry and Theo bolted all the way back to the passage to their dorms.
Blaise glanced up when they came in the door. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring away in their beds and Malfoy was still gone. Harry nodded at Blaise with a faint smirk, and then they all fell into bed.
***
“The Gryffindor table seems remarkably subdued this morning,” Blaise said cheerfully over breakfast. “I wonder why that could be?”
Harry turned around to look, and had to hide a smirk. Jules, Finnegan, Weasley, and Thomas were sitting at the end of the table, where first years usually did, but they were obviously being shunned. The lot of them had their heads down and didn’t look like they were talking. Hermione and Neville were sitting with the other Gryffindor first-year girls, with several feet of space between them and the outcasts. Loads of the upper years were shooting Jules’ crew disgusted looks.
Pansy slid into a seat next to Blaise, which was something of a surprise because Malfoy, Bulstrode, and the beefcakes weren’t here yet, and Pansy normally came in with them. “Good morning.”
“I think you set off her ‘where can I spread gossip’ detector,” Theo told Blaise solemnly.
“What do you know?” Harry asked Pansy.
She shrugged delicately. “Only that last night, Draco was convinced he would catch Weasley and the other Potter sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower with a baby dragon. McGonagall caught him lurking about and hauled him off to Snape, only to find Snape looking for her with an extremely terrified pack of Gryffindor first-years.”
Theo looked at the Gryffindor table again. “Three guesses who they are.”
“Have you seen the hourglasses?” Pansy said gleefully.
They all shook their heads.
“Malfoy only cost us twenty for going after them himself instead of getting a teacher involved, because he turned out to be right about Gryffindors sneaking around. But Gryffindor lost two hundred points.”
Blaise choked on his juice and Harry dropped his toast.
“What?” Theo coughed.
“That’s more than…” Harry trailed off, remembering with a jolt of dying euphoria that Pansy didn’t know about their plan. “I mean—how much is left?”
Pansy smirked. “Let’s just say they’re more or less out of the running for the House Cup. We’ve just got to beat Hufflepuff now; Ravenclaw’s still trailing by forty-three.”
“Weren’t they ahead of Hufflepuff last week?” Theo said.
“Yes, but then somehow all of the Ravenclaw third and fourth years got into a debate that lasted two days and none of them did any of their homework, and they lost loads of points for not turning it in and not knowing the class material.”
Noah Bole leaned over from the second years’ section of the table. “There’s more than just them all getting caught out of bed,” he said. “My brother—Derrick, third year Chaser, you know—he heard from Wright at Quidditch team meeting this morning that someone tipped Snape off. He got a note shoved under his door last night just before curfew.”
Harry could see Pansy filing that one away.
Bole winked at them and went back to talking with his year mates.
When the other first years joined them at the table, Malfoy looked absolutely irate. “Potter!” he snarled.
“Keep your voice down,” Harry drawled. “Can’t let Ravenclaw hear us arguing. Why are you pissed at me, anyway? You’re the one who lost us twenty points.”
Malfoy threw himself into the seat next to Pansy, who immediately lost any sign of being on friendly terms with Harry, Blaise, and Theo. “You told them I was going to catch them so they’d change their plan,” he hissed.
Pansy’s gaze snapped to Harry. Clearly she hadn’t thought of that. Her eyes narrowed.
Harry was actually kind of impressed that Malfoy had figured that out. “Look, Malfoy, I’m not even on speaking terms with my brother. Why do you think I suddenly went and spilled Slytherin secrets to him?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy hissed, “but they had a dragon. They’d all have been expelled! And the oaf would be gone!”
Harry had to take care of this and he could only see one way out.
“Well, Potter?” Bulstrode said sweetly. “Did you betray your House?”
“No,” Harry said in the coldest voice he could muster. “The opposite, really.”
They blinked.
“I learned about the change in plan from Granger and Longbottom,” he hissed. “Malfoy, you are the idiot who stole Weasley’s textbook with the letter in it—did you really think they wouldn’t figure out you knew about the plan? Granger’s Muggle-born but she’s not stupid. No way were they just going to merrily waltz up the Astronomy Tower with an illegal dragon if they knew you were going to be waiting. I found out about the change in plan and I tipped off Snape to when they’d be sneaking back in.”
The beefcakes looked vaguely impressed. Malfoy was having none of it. “Well if you were a true Slytherin, you’d have told him everything and gotten rid of the oaf, too!” he snarled.
“Again with the loudness,” Harry said. “Seriously, do you want the entire school overhearing this conversation?”
Malfoy glared at him.
“I didn’t,” Harry said, “because I’m trying to build a relationship with the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House that my dearly bigoted father can’t muster up a problem with, and if I’d told Snape everything Longbottom probably would’ve been expelled. I’ve got no problem with Hagrid, either—he’s a bit brutish, yeah, but he’s never been anything but nice to me. No reason to want him chucked in Azkaban for a year for dragon smuggling. Instead, I arranged for Gryffindor to lose massive points and destroy my brother’s social standing in the process while you cost us twenty points. In fact…” He put on a mock thoughtful face. “As far as I can see, you could’ve gone to Snape any time to tell him about the dragon, and you didn’t, which tells me you wanted the glory of catching them to yourself. So you sneaked out clumsily and got us caught while I was making sure Gryffindor got the worse end of the deal. Tell me, Malfoy, which of us is the “true Slytherin” here?”
Malfoy stared at him with pink cheeks. He was the first to break eye contact. “Don’t just sit there, pass me, the pumpkin juice!” he snapped at Crabbe, who blinked in confusion before passing over the pitcher.
Harry sat back with a smirk, knowing he’d won this round. And when, after breakfast, Greengrass and Davis invited him and Blaise and Theo to use their first names, he knew it was a sign things were changing. First names meant the girls thought Harry and his friends had a high enough social standing that they were worth looking familiar with to others. Malfoy had commanded respect at the start of the year simply for being a Malfoy, but he’d quickly proven himself a self-centered peacock with no sense of subtlety, class, or cleverness, only a family name and a loaded Gringotts account. Harry had been working to undermine him all year long and it felt fantastic to finally knock him down a peg. Now Malfoy was weakened, Daphne and Tracy occupied a neutral middle ground, and Harry couldn’t just be overlooked anymore as unimportant.
It’d be interesting to see where Pans fell out—whether she stuck with Malfoy for some reason Harry couldn’t figure, tried to edge in on the neutrality of her roommates, or used her agreements with Harry to work her way in with him and Theo and Blaise. He hoped she didn’t go with the first option. Malfoy wasn’t worth a girl as smart as Pansy.
***
He, Theo, and Blaise sneaked out of the castle that morning, taking advantage of the Sunday laziness, and made sure they covered their tracks. It wouldn’t be good for anyone—an especially clever bushy-haired Gryffindor, say—to get over her anger and wonder how exactly the boys left a priceless magical artifact in Hagrid’s hut and go looking for interference. It was the work of a good thirty minutes to replace the mead, jugged pre-steeped tea, water, and whiskey in Hagrid’s hut with liquids that weren’t spiked with Forgetfulness Potion. Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest that the Gryffindors had stopped for a celebratory snack with Hagrid afterwards—Weasley and Finnegan in particular never seemed to stop eating.
They crept back up to the school when they heard Hagrid coming back from somewhere in the forest and sauntered into the Slytherin common room. Several of the second and third years gave them appraising glances. Harry did his best to ignore it.
***
The meeting of their study group that afternoon was really more of a gossip session. Hermione and Neville had to field endless questions about what happened and what the fallout had been. Hermione told them rather grimly that none of Gryffindor was talking to the four boys, except the other first years, and then only when they had to for class. Harry, Theo, and Blaise managed to stay out of it as only the Slytherin first years and Hermione and Neville knew they’d been involved at all, and none of them was talking.
At least, he thought so, right up until Jules, Finnegan, Thomas, and Weasley cornered them in the courtyard Sunday afternoon.
“Incoming,” Theo muttered, eyeing the angry Gryffindors with anticipation.
“Keep your wands handy, I’d give this good odds of turning ugly.” Blaise almost seemed to hope it would. Harry couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t going to start a fight with the Gryffindors, but if they picked one with him—well.
Weasley was in the lead, wand out but held down. “You slimy wanker!”
“Oh,” Theo said, “how clever and original. Did you spend all morning coming up with that one?”
“Shut it,” Finnegan snarled, an ugly scowl on his face. “We know you went and told—told Snape where we’d be—”
“Hardly,” Harry said witheringly, while wondering if they actually did know and if so from who. “I know this might be surprising but I actually have better things to do than come up with ways to get Gryffindors in trouble.”
“Apparently not, since you were the one who came up with that blasted plan in the first place!” Jules yelled.
So Hermione blabbed. At least she didn’t know everything; they were probably just pissed and looking for someone to blame.
“That blasted plan kept Hagrid out of jail and you lot in school,” Blaise said sneeringly. “It’s not our fault if you went running noisily around the first floor and got yourselves caught.”
Jules folded his arms and glared at Harry. “Haven’t you got any sense of loyalty?”
“Oh yeah,” Harry said cheerfully. “I’m very loyal, except only to people who earn it.”
“I’m your brother!”
“Yes, and you and our father both decided I was a stupid Slytherin not worth your time or affection the second I was sorted. Sorry, but after that I’m not racing to join the Jules Potter Fan Club.”
Finnegan raised his wand threateningly. “You leave us alone, you here? Stay out of our business, stay away from Neville—”
“Really? First Hermione, now Neville? Do you seriously think trying to control who they’re friends with gives you an kind of social high ground here?” Harry asked.
The Gryffindors glared.
“Okay, this is boring, let’s go,” Theo said.
They left Jules’ pack standing aimlessly out in the snow, and by some heroic effort managed to contain their laughter until they were down in the dungeons.
***
“And of course I got paired with the other Potter,” Malfoy said dramatically, “because Longbottom was too terrified to wander around with that oaf with him—and we were following a trail of blood, of all things, and then there it was! All shining and white, practically glowing—And then when that hooded figure came out of nowhere, I hid, like any sensible person, and of course Potter did his noble idiot routine and had to be saved by a centaur of all things—it was like a—like a short man in a cloak, except beneath it was nothing but darkness and he moved like he was made of shadow—”
“How long has this been going on?” Harry muttered, sliding into a seat next to Blaise, who smirked.
“At least ten minutes,” he said, low, “this is the second retelling and it’s already gotten about half again as dramatic.”
Harry listened for a few seconds, eyeing Theo, who was staring blankly at a textbook that clearly wasn’t actually being read. “Yeah, this is definitely not how the Gryffindors are telling it.”
He’d just gotten back from the Great Hall, where he’d lingered after his year mates to study the Gryffindors’ interactions more. Things had gone from frigid to just an unpleasant chill between the first year boys and the rest of the House, probably because they now had such an incredible story to tell. And the rest of Gryffindor didn’t know the half of it. Harry was still trying to process what he’d learned that morning from Hermione—not only was there a link between why you’d want to drink unicorn blood and why you’d want the Sorcerer’s Stone, but the centaurs, who could apparently read the future, thought said link was Voldemort.
Harry thanked Merlin Malfoy hadn’t overheard that conversation between Jules and the centaur. He really didn’t have time to deal with a Malfoy who thought his dad’s probable old boss was back and looking for allies. It’d be all over Slytherin by morning and Harry would have to triple ward his bed.
“I can’t focus with that peacock strutting around,” Theo said suddenly, “I’m going to bed.” He shut his book decisively.
“Good plan,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “We do have exams in two weeks, better make sure we’re caught up on sleep…”
Blaise looked between them. “I think I’ll come too. I didn’t sleep well last night. I had this very odd dream about llamas and Quidditch.”
“Your mind is a very strange place,” Harry informed him, gathering his things.
“Obviously, seeing as I decided to befriend you.”
They kept up the banter until the door to their room closed behind them. Harry checked that Crabbe and Goyle were gone—probably still up at dinner stuffing their faces—and sat on his bed. Blaise wandered over to the foot of Theo’s bed and folded his arms.
“All right, what was so important you dragged us back here?” Blaise said. “I was going to prod Malfoy into another retelling of the story, some of the third years looked about ready to hex him, and I heard they’ve been learning some good ones from Emily Bletchley that she got from the Quidditch team.”
Theo perched on his own bed, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Harry said.
Theo glared at him. “About—about the Dark Lord.”
That made even Blaise drop his flippancy.
“What about him?” Harry said cautiously. Unofficial rule eight, live and let live about blood purity politics, had probably saved his arse several times this year. Slytherin was complicated because no one could throw “Mudblood” and “blood traitor” around without being certain everyone around you wouldn’t take it badly. On the other hand, professing a love for Muggles was a great way to murder your social standing. Harry kept it to defending Muggle-borns and retaliating when people used Mudblood—which reminded him, Bulstrode was still on his To Do list after the dragon episode—and Theo mostly stayed out of it. Blaise expressed derogatory comments towards Muggles on occasion but he’d gone from pretending Hermione and Justin didn’t exist to treating them like casual acquaintances. And that was all without bringing up the whole mess of whose parents had or had not supported the Death Eaters back in the day. He did not want to have this conversation.
“He’s dead,” Blaise said flatly. “I still think the centaurs are full of shite. Divination’s nonsense at best, actively harmful at worst—whatever’s special about Jules made the Killing Curse rebound on You-Know-Who, you really think he’s coming back from that?”
“You probably know my dad has certain… sympathies,” Theo said carefully. “That I was raised hearing certain things. One of those things was that—well, there were a lot of hints that the Dark Lord wasn’t completely dead. Just weakened, biding his time. More than the rumors that always floated around. Dad… had it on good authority.”
Blaise looked rather like someone had hit him on the head. “Oh… kay, I take it back. That’s bad news.”
“You have a gift for understatement,” Harry muttered. Secretly he was shocked Theo had even told them. It was the same as admitting he was willing to rebel against his family for Harry’s sake, even if in just this small way.
Harry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. First Voldemort killed his mum, then he tried to kill Jules and set Jules up as some sort of wizarding Messiah, which was ultimately why Harry ended up enslaved by his horrid Muggle relatives for ten years, then the shadow of Voldemort’s war made Harry’s first year of school ridiculously complicated in his house, and now to top it all off he was apparently hanging out around school to bring himself back to life, probably so he could get a second crack at the Potter twins. It was almost comical how messed up the whole thing was.
“They say Dumbledore’s the only one the Dark Lord ever feared,” Harry said. “So we should just keep our heads down and let the actual adults handle this. I’m sure they’re not completely unaware of what’s going on.”
“Yeah,” Theo said. He looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt.
“I can’t believe you expect me to take my exams with the shade of the Dark Lord lurking around school,” Blaise said suddenly. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, as if anyone could concentrate…”
Harry grinned and Theo threw a pillow at Blaise’s head and the tension was broken. They all clambered onto Theo’s bed and played Exploding Hearts until they were all nursing burned fingers and had mostly forgotten the schemes and dangers floating around Hogwarts School.
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